Looking With Your Heart
by CreativeImagination
Summary: Mon dieu, how to begin? Its EricOC & CR I’m afraid: when a young artist and her family has come to paint the rebuilt operahouse Raina stumbles upon the famed Opera Ghost.


**Chapter I**

_Happily Ever After_

We're all looking for a peaceful, safe place- maybe there isn't such a place, but we search of it nevertheless. We keep going after it too, no matter what's waiting for us down the road, overcoming all obstacles, even those that seem impossible. We never stop living either, not really- sure, our bodies might die and our souls may even be contained but we don't die- not in the way people think anyway. But somehow, whether it be the work of providence or of God Himself, these are the words that ran through my mind as I linger in the foyer of the Opera house- L'Opera Populaire. Why I have these musings I'm uncertain, perhaps because it reminded me so of Notre Dame, for the architect had outdone himself conceiving such a monstrous structure. I am envious of such talent, for the man's skill surpassed my own by great lengths. It inspires me so- inspires me to create something unbelievable just as this building is.

The inside had been lavished with a fine carved stairwell that coiled up until it arched against opposing sides of the balcony. Two entrance doors, both graciously formed, lead into the actual auditorium which was far to beautiful to ever describe. The words I give you now are trivial and insignificant compared to the wondrous bliss of the craftsman's skilled work, and though it brought tears to my eyes Hanna's voice echoed through the corridors, bounding off the walls in such a wretched squeal it made me flinch.

"How dismal," she groaned, "do we **_really_** have to stay here while papa and you all paint? Can't we stay in a hotel or-"

"Shh," I quieted her, "father is speaking to Monsieur Firmin."

"So?" her voice grew bleaker as it strained into that lofty pitch she often got when she questioned me, it beating ruthlessly against the walls, "what do you care?" She was right though- I didn't heed nor care that her harsh words might have disturbed either of the men standing farther back in the entryway of the auditorium- more so, I selfishly thirsted after my own peace, for her callused tone gritted against my ears like sandpaper on dry skin. "Raina?" her crystal blue eyes narrowed at me for a moment, loosing there lucidity and became something resembling a raging flood. "Why must you be so obstinate?"

"Its part of my charm I'm afraid," I sighed and smiled smugly at her.

"Be nice to your sister," Nadia scolded and sent Louis, who was now winding around my feet, a deathly frightening glare- if he had not been a cat and had any sense about him he would've turned to stone under her Gorgon gaze, I suppose ignorance truly is bliss. "Get that mongrel out of my sight, an opera house is no place for a creature like that, she's filthy!"

"**It's** a _he_, Nadia," I gathered Louis in my arms, his head cuddling against my cheek, "and I would be kind to Anna if she would refrain from yowling like a dog in heat."

"Good Lord," she groaned tilting her head upwards, "go, go on, get out of my sight- and take that mangy thing with you. I won't wish to speak to you until you've learned proper manners."

"And don't call me Anna!" Hanna squalled after me, "You know I hate it when you call me that! I'm not **_Polish_**, Raina, I'm _French_- call me Hanna." I didn't acknowledge her words, no that's a lie, I did, but I showed no evidence of it- only walked on with Louis still snuggled deep in my embrace. Though you may not understand why, I was deeply hurt by Hanna's siding with Nadia, though she _was_ her mother- yet it made no sense to me why she had snapped at me so- I _always_ called her Anna.

When mother died, papa married again because he felt I needed a positive feminine roll model in my life- if this is truly the case I don't know why he married Nadia, that woman is anything but positive. She tried to force me down and teach me etiquette, sewing, cooking- but I wouldn't take to it, I would sneak out my sketchpad and etch into its amorous pages the world around me. She grew so angry with me that she actually flung it into our fireplace- only me, being as foolish and sentimental as I am, rushed after it. Papa wasn't too happy coming hope to a child with a pair of burnt hands. Though I suffered, being unable to draw for months on end, I had gotten two very important things out of the incident- I had gotten my sketchbook back for good, and I had learned that Nadia could not control me.

You must understand my predicament, a child that had always been free, now trapped under the jurisdiction of a gratuitous parent- it was like putting an untamed animal in a cramped cage, it drove me to the brink of insanity being locked up and forced to sew, I was used to climbing trees and riding horses, not cooking. Ever since then our relationship has been tattered, not that it wasn't before, yet now it seems she will find any excuse to lecture me. Louis rubbed his face lovingly against my forearm as I set him on the stage, the pads of his feet caressing the smooth wooden flooring.

"Are you trying to cheer me up, mon cher?" I ran my fingers across his rusty silk coat. "No, **_pardon_**- you wish to go explore." He purred in response and I scratched him behind one of his lynx-like ears. "Go on then you little scamp," I nudged him, "keep out of trouble." Two yellow-green eyes gazed back at me, hungry yet not wishing to leave me as I was- 'come with me' they pleaded. Cats, I have learned, do not hunt in packs as dogs do- yet Louis has always enjoyed my company no matter what he was doing, whether he was stalking a gecko or sleeping on my bed- he was my only companion, I believe he knows this. "Oh don't look at me that way," I rubbed his head, scratching him down his back and then lacing his tail through my fingers, "I will explore at my own pace. Go on- I don't wish to see you until dinner."

God only knows if that creature understands me, but he ran off well enough so I assume he had- for being master and pet we both read each other rather well. Sometimes I do wonder what he thinks behind those eyes- those two orbs which flashed like lightning trapped in a bottle, those eyes that are some sort of mixture of innocents and sin. Standing to my feet, passing all other thoughts of it away, I smoothed over my shirt and started backstage- opposing Louis's choice of direction of course. Though we spent a great time growing up together, Hanna and I dress very differently- if she were to go without the most fashionable outfit for one day I am sure she would commit some sort of self injury. My apparel, on the other hand, consists mostly of breeches and poet shirts- yet when one is painting one cannot be too careful- my father's pupils are all boys, beside myself, and hormones run rampant in the studio rather often. I cannot recall how many times a boy has tried to catch a glimpse at me, nor can I recall the number of teeth I've knocked out.

All in all, my father's pupils and I get along fairly well- in some cases we are like a family in the sense that we argue and bicker most of the time. Yet, though we often fight, I love every single one of them as I would a brother- never anything more. **_Never_**- not even Gabriel who's my favorite, both as a companion and a pupil. Gabe is eighteen, a year younger than I, who specializes in landscape, which I find appealing because most of my father's students paint people- or worse yet, angels and happy little cherubs. His maple hair is shortly cut, and has the loveliest blue eyes- yet he's rather lanky for a man of his age, but then he's been thin for as long as I could remember. He and I have been friends since he came to be my father's student- but he is not here now, he is in Rome with his mother while I am all the way here in France. He will be here halfway through the year, yet I wish he was beside me now- now lonely I am.

I paused a moment, my thoughts dissolving like I'd woken from a dream- I felt as if I was being watched. Eyes ran across my face but then vanished into nothingness, the feeling fled just as quickly as it had come. My lips pressed together, them creating a thin line as my eyes scanned the rafters- nothing. I **_saw_** nothing yet I _sensed_ something there, something watching me as I walked through the opera house. Though the thought was unsettling I felt no danger from whatever it was, whether it was spirit, man or creature, I thought it was not out to harm me. Before I went on I nodded (or was it a bow?) my head to show I acknowledged its presents- assuming there was really something there of course. As I walked onwards I began to feel rather silly, mush like a child hunting for monsters in the closet and crying out when they felt it brush past them, only to later realize it was the sleeve of a coat. Nothing was there watching me- **_nothing_**.

I shivered some, my clothing really wasn't appropriate for France's cooler weather and the attire I bought when we had been in the Balearic Islands weren't terribly warm either. I wondered if perhaps I could afford a jacket- and I dug in my pocket. The last place I'd been that was even remotely chilly was when we went to Germany and that was a few years back, yet it wasn't _this_ cool (but then we **_had_** visited in the summer). What I managed to pull out wasn't enough to buy a loaf of bread let alone a jacket- I sighed in spite of myself. Walking back I had decided to take it up with papa, but I had only gotten halfway across the stage's wooden floor when Hanna's voice ricocheted painfully off my eardrums.

"But its **_freezing_**!" she cried, tears running down her face while papa tried to explain that we hadn't been paid yet- nor would we be if she got us kicked out with her dreadful cries. Still, the blond insisted and finally papa broke down, pulling the money from his pocket and abruptly shoving it at her. Apparently she had beaten me to it, Lord knows she's thinner than I but yet I cannot help but feel jealousy rise in my chest. _I'm cold too, _my heart shouts, _what about me? What about your first, true-blooded daughter?_ Yet I cast it aside, or at least tried to, knowing that complaining would do me no good, and that perhaps I should have thought of it earlier. _Oh but it's not fair_… I had stood aside and watched the whole thing, how she whined and begged until he gave her what she wanted- I couldn't pull that. If I were to ask a second time he would most certainly slap me, or at the very least tell me to buy it on my own. I sulked- hurt and feeling more alone than when we had gotten there.

Perhaps one of the boys had an old jacket I could borrow? Maybe, but I would prefer to freeze to death rather than going around looking more like a boy than I already did. Not my appearance mind you, my clothing- but I didn't wish for Nadia to tease me, saying I was the boy in the family. Just because I didn't wear damn dresses all the damn time, good God! How about **_SHE_** try climbing a ladder and painting while boys look up her skirt- better yet, lets see her climb a ladder! Pulling myself away before I gave all three of them a piece of my mind I sat on one of the steps leading up to the catwalk. Was it wrong for me to sulk? Perhaps it was selfish, and many times as I sat there I tried to force the burning desire to slap Hanna cross the face back down into my belly- but it rose up again and again until tears brimmed my eyes. Louis had poked his head out of the thick velvet curtains and trotted towards me- his head rubbing affectionately against my ankle.

"Am I being childish, Louis?" I asked and he meowed in response. "Oh but papa always fusses over her, why should I feel bad this time? It isn't as if he cares more for her than me, yes?" Louis didn't answer this time, only licked himself in response and I sighed, slumping over and cramming my fist against my cheek to keep my head elevated. "Am I just bitter because he'll buy her a coat when I don't have one?" Louis meowed again, his whiskers flailing outwards. "And you wonder why I don't ask your opinion on things?" He just purred at me, his enormous yellow eyes blinking lazily- with that he trotted away once more, back into the obscurity of the opera house. Serves me right for asking a cat for advice on sibling rivalry- of course he'd expect me to run after her, slap her across the face and take her money- I was jealous, but not **_THAT_** jealous. Remind me not to ask Louis when it comes to home life, he'll always give me the answers I want to hear.

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Night came quickly, yet I didn't bother eating- I wasn't hungry, I was still sulking over the fact that my father shunned me so. Still, as I lay there in bed my thoughts wander to other things, better things, like what exactly are we to paint on the walls. I pray to God not flowers, I would prefer something more-

"Raina!" there came a pounding against the wall, "Raina are you awake!" I had gotten a room to myself but Anna had taken a liking to the dancers- lucky for me that room just happened to be next to mine. "**_Raina_**!" After a while I couldn't ignore the pounding any longer and forced myself up, skipping quickly along the cold stone floor- which hadn't helped any, my feet were frozen as I creaked open the door of the girl's room. "Raina? Were you awake?"

"Well I am now," I shut the door behind me and resisted to urge to bolt for her bed and cover my feet. Looking up I noticed the five girls that occupied the room were sitting up in their beds. "Is," I paused a moment, "everything okay?"

"I want you to tell us a story," Anna pleaded in a gentle voice, "oh won't you Raina? I told them how terribly astounding you are at telling stories- won't you?"

"You woke me in the middle of the night to tell stories?" I mused, even though it was half a lie, I had never gone to sleep. I was flooded with 'pleases' and beseechings until finally I felt pride rise in my chest and I laughed softly- Anna clapped her hands together knowing I had given in. Quickly I bounded cross the floor and made myself comfortable in Anna's bed- quickly I understood why she had been awake in the first place- it was a cotton makeshift bed like my own, only the mattress had been mixed with straw and other downing- rather uncomfortable really. "Which one shall I tell?"

"Tell the one about Beauty and the Beast," she nudged me, "I do like that one so- Oh or the one about the king who's sentiments controlled the kingdom!"

"Let me tell of the beast then," I insisted, "for that's a longer tale, it will send you straight off to bed." I used to tell Anna stories when we were younger, and somehow I'd always had a knack for it- but then mother had always told me wonderful stories so… maybe it rubbed off on me. "It all began with a prince," I started, "a haughty narcissistic man who was to rule over Persia when he came of age." It was my favorite story actually which is why I wished to tell it, not the fact that it was long, more so my selfishness of the love of the tale.

The story goes, though I don't tell you in detail as I tell them, that a Persian prince sacrifices a camel for one of the yearly celebrations. But you see, the prince had been told by his assistant as he prepared the animal for the sacrifice that it had a deformity, which was strictly prohibited- yet the prince sacrificed the creature anyways for he didn't wish to disappoint his people. In anger, a young fae had taken a vengeance upon the king, transforming him into a lion, telling him he would never be human again unless someone truly loved him- as a lover would love him.

Being nearly killed by his own father, mating with two lionesses and watching them be slaughtered by his brother's hands, traveling throughout Turkey, beyond wastelands and wilderness, befriending a lion cub and then loosing the only friend he owned he finally found himself in an abandoned castle in France. From there he terrified a man into giving him on of his daughters after picking one of the prince's roses- and surely you know the story from there.

Oh and how Anna cried then, right at the point of the prince's death, when his body was weak and broken, the girl throwing herself upon him, begging, _pleading_ for him to live. She had been gone from him too long you see, and he had thought she had left him for good, never to return to him- to leave him in his loneliness to rot. With the girls frail kiss, her tears that poured from her eyes, the prince was transformed and the spell broken. I never did get to the part were they made passionate love, but I figured I'd leave that part out- mother had always thought I needed to know everything, I on the other hand, knew Anna would burst into hysterics if I even mentioned so much as him touching her 'un-gentlemanlike'. She was raised proper, I was not. Mother was of the itinerant people- she believed I should know all she knew, even at a young age.

"So what happened?" one of the younger ballerinas asked.

"Like in all stories," I smiled softly, "they lived happily ever after." Then I yawed and told them all I was off to bed, only to receive a loud groan and protest from all of them. "Come now…" they kept on- "**_hey_**!" silence blanketed the group of girls, them all looking at me pleadingly with large sad eyes. I sighed, feeling myself being broken down once more- how is it that they hold such power over me? "Now I will hear no more crying or I won't come tomorrow night, is this understood?"

"Really!" the brunette asked happily.

"Yes, tomorrow tell us the one about the goblin market!" Anna clapped her hands together like an excited child, "I do enjoy that one as well. Hey Raina, why is it all of your stories are love stories?"

"I have others," I lied, though I'm not sure why, "only I never thought them appropriate for you- far too fearsome." I brushed her hair back. "Sleep now dear Hanna."

"Don't call me that," she yawned settling down in her bed, "call me Anna won't you Raina? Please? Forgive what I've said to you today?"

"As you wish," I whispered and headed out of the room, my feet growing cold once more. I sat on my bed, looking out into the darkness for a long moment. "Louis?" the cat looked up sleepily, "do you suppose perhaps Monsieur Firmin would like it if I painted my stories on the opera house walls?" No answer. "Well what do you know?"

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**Author's note**: -_looks nervous_- okay, my first POTO fic, and no Erik yet but I'm getting there. I hope you liked it so far, gimme a little advice would ya? It might take me a few tries until I get a really good phantom story goin' (I mean look how many damn Labyrinth stories I did! And I **_STILL_** suck.). But that's not the point! The point is- (…. I had a point?)… the point is to review so I'll post another chapter! Oh, and its rated M you see because there is a lemon in later chapters… -_grins worriedly_-

-Your humble authoress,

Idony E.


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